Hope and Memory
by Rayven Blackwood
Summary: NEW plot! NEW direction! SAME idea! An Amnesiac Yohji rescues a dying Ran after the happenings of Gluhen 13. But no good deed goes unpunished as Yohji begins to regain his old memories, and is reintroduce to the (now fractured) world of Weiss Kreuz...
1. Stray From Reality

Title: Hope and Memory Author: Rayven Blackwood Series: Weiß Kreuz/ Weiß Kreuz Gluhen Pairings: Yohji/Ran Category: Romance/Drama/Angst Rating: R Warnings: Allusions to homosexual intercourse, angst, and beautiful boys Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and any connection thereto belong to Project Weiss. The song Amazing Kiss belongs to BoA. Original concept belongs to the author, Rayven Blackwood Author's Notes: Takes place right after the happenings of episode 13 of Weiß Kreuz. All is not sunshine a lollipops in Yohji's life as he discovers bit by bit who he was in the time before, and why he was compelled to bring a recuperating man into his house, life, and heart. Originally written as the precursor to a post-Gluhen series that I didn't manage to finish, I decided to adapt it for the Amazing Kiss fanfiction/fanart competition run by Mako-chan. For the sake of my own sanity and character history, I'm blending the Weiß Kreuz and Weiß Kreuz Gluhen timelines. I don't suggest reading this fic if you don't want spoilers for both of these series.  
  
As I lay awake Another night of heartbreak  
  
Longing for you hits me out of the blue  
  
Part One: Stray from Reality  
  
It had been a year and a half, Yohji thought as he ambled towards home. A year and a half in this new life. Eighteen months since his existence had been 'reset', as it were. Eighteen months since he'd first met Asuka.  
  
Yohji smiled at the thought of his wife. After only eight short months of knowing each other –most of it revolving around his recuperation- he had proposed, and she had accepted. They had been married two months after that. Since he had no recollection or who or what he had been in his past, nor if he owned a house or any type of place to stay, they had moved into Asuka's apartment. While she put in extra shifts at the hospital, he began to look for odd jobs. He landed one at a small flower shop not too far away from their place. It was within walking distance on a nice day, so they were able to save money on subway cards.  
  
Apparently he'd had a knack for flowers at some point in his other life. He managed to name all of them, and seemed to know how to make the arrangements look just right. Yohji was grateful that he'd found such a seemingly easy job with good pay and a good boss. Aya-chan had never asked questions about him, other than for vital information, such as his address and cell phone number. She was very big on personal privacy, and had a few strict rules about it, too. She wouldn't go snooping into his business, if he kept his nose out of hers. Yohji had found this to be a bit odd, but she was adamant on that point, and that point alone. Besides, what need did he have, to go into her private affairs? There were few other rules about the Koneko. Hours were relatively flexible, as she lived above the little shop. Pay was fair, and she supplied lunch and, on occasion, dinner when Koneko was open late. She wouldn't tell him her last name, which Yohji had found odd, and, she had asked that he didn't call her Aya, but Aya-chan.  
  
Aya-chan. The name had stirred something within him when he'd first heard it, but he couldn't place it. When he'd asked her, she'd replied blithely 'Koudoh-kun, Aya is a common enough name.' So he'd shrugged it off, and after a few weeks had passed, forgotten all about the incident.  
  
Occasionally he had troublesome spells. Feelings of guilt and depression, a longing to go out and party. Dreams of three men sometimes woke him in the middle of the night, leaving him covered in a cold sweat. He never remembered them. At one point Aya-chan had dropped a vase, and the shattering sound had him ducking under the counter and pulling at his watch. It seemed as if his body was trying to do something that his mind wasn't needed for.  
  
Aya-chan wasn't even startled by the reaction. She just told him that everything was fine, and asked him to deal with the glass while she went to wash the cut on her hand. Then she'd politely turned and asked the customers if they could please come back another time, they would be more capable of serving them. The young couple had looked at Yohji askance, and agreed, leaving Yohji to clean up the glass with naught but his troubled thoughts for company.  
  
But such incidences were few and far between. So on this beautiful, if chilly, October afternoon, he walked home with a bouquet of fresh cattleyas for Asuka. Aya-chan always gave him a bundle of the flowers to bring home to his wife, although he never knew why. They weren't Asuka's favourite, nor did she say they held any special meaning to her. But Aya-chan always insisted. Not wanting to offend the young woman, Yohji always acquiesced. The smell made the apartment homey, and fresh flowers always brightened up a room.  
  
Yohji began to whistle quietly, a tune that he'd picked up from god knows where. He couldn't help but feel happy. He may only be a florist, but he was a florist with a fair and over-generous boss, a fine home, and an amazing, loving, beautiful wife. Life was good for Kudoh Yohji, and that was just fine with him.  
  
The song died on his lips as he noticed a commotion up ahead. People were gathered around a trash bin...no, they were gathered around the man who was collapsed next to the trash-bin. He lay in the fetal position, hand pressed against his side. Red hair fell across his face, obscuring it from view, but Yohji could tell by the extremely pale colour of his skin that he'd gone into shock. Blood poured between his fingers where they wrapped around an ivory knife-hilt.  
  
Something clicked in his head. "Call 119!" he shouted, slicing quickly through the crowd. The gathering of people turned as one to stare at him. They moved quickly out of the way as Yohji came barreling towards the fallen man. Placing a hand on the man's cheek, Yohji swore at how cold he was. He took off his coat and draped it over his shoulders and upper chest, careful not to disturb the lower abdomen. "He's gone into shock, but we can't move him." He said to no one in particular. "Somebody, drape your coat across his legs. We have to keep him relatively warm until the ambulance gets here."  
  
Seconds ticked by, and no one moved. The man grunted, his face stretched in pain. "God damnit! It's only for a few minutes, until the ambulance gets here. He'll die if we don't keep him warm!" And he may die yet. He added silently. His stomach was pumping out blood steadily, meaning no main arteries were severed. But depending on which organs the blade had hit...it could spell death for the man.  
  
All of this knowledge was new to him. He might have picked some of it up from Asuka, but he didn't think it plausible. No, this information had been his for a long time. But even as he thought about it, it began to slip away again. No! He thought desperately. I need to save him! I need to remember! So he knelt behind the fallen man's head, and raised his head to rest in his lap.  
  
The crowd stirred as a young woman took off her ankle-length coat and tucked it around his legs. Yohji looked at her, appreciation and thanks shining in his eyes.  
  
The man stirred, looked up into his face. Startlingly violet eyes caught Yohji's. Eyes that were the same colour as Aya-chan's. "Yoh...ji?" he whispered, voice hoarse. The blond could do nothing but nod his head. A vision came to him, this same man standing tall, wearing glasses, and with long hair tied in a braid down the length of his back. Yohji's voice hitched.  
  
"I'm here...Aya." He shook his head. Why did he just call him his boss' name? But it seemed to put the man at ease. He relaxed a little, his head resting on Yohji's knees. "Don't...leave, 'kay?" his voice was slurred as shock got a better grip on him. "I won't." The blond promised, and knew that while he had no idea why, he wouldn't break it, no matter what.  
  
Relief flooded through him as he heard the harsh screams of the ambulance siren. The paramedics clambered out of the vehicle with their stretcher, and the area was a scene of controlled chaos as the medics got to work, stabilizing the dagger, stretching 'Aya' out on the board, bracing him against it. Yohji collected the two jackets and moved out of harms way, allowing the professionals to do their job. It was only when they were loading him into the awaiting vehicle that Yohji remembered his promise not to leave. He turned to the shivering woman next to him, and thanked her for lending her jacket, then ran over to the ambulance. They were about to close the doors when he stopped them, hand on the door.  
  
"I'm coming with you. I promised I wouldn't leave." He said, his voice calm. The paramedic nodded and waited while Yohji climbed inside to close the door. Everything inside seemed vaguely familiar to the florist, as if he'd seen it before. Which was highly likely, he thought, seeing as he'd come to the hospital from an explosion site.  
  
For the first three minutes of the five-minute ride to the hospital, Yohji was ignored. The medics worked around him skillfully, stabilizing 'Aya's' blood pressure, elevating his feet to reduce the impact of shock, and doing all manner of other things that Yohji nearly recognized. The entire situation was playing havoc on his mind, things that he thought he knew, but didn't quite. Terms that teased memory, 'Aya', a man he recognized –no, a man that he knew, quite well. Or, at least he knew he should know him quite well.  
  
He wasn't stabilizing, Yohji realized. He'd lost too much blood, and, if he knew Aya, perhaps the will to live, as well. What? Yohji shook his head. Where had that come from? He groaned and rested his head in his hands; suddenly wishing his hair was long enough to run his fingers through. Why did he know this man? Why did he know about his will to live? How were they connected? Granted, twenty-seven years was a lot of time to build connections to people. But from what point in his life did Fujimiya come from? What?  
  
"A-Aya. Fujimiya." Yohji said wonderingly. "His name is Fujimiya Aya. He's twenty-six Or he was two years ago, which means he's twenty-eight. His blood type is...oh gods above...I nearly had it too." He rubbed a hand through his short, fuzzy hair again. The paramedic –he managed to snag a look at his nametag, proclaiming the man to be 'Hiwatari Shinji'- was openly staring at him. Yohji could only blink, then shrugged nonchalantly.  
  
"I suffer from severe acute amnesia. I woke up nearly two years ago in the hospital, with no knowledge of even my name. I've regained very little since then. But I know things about him. I'm trying to make sure I don't forget them." He said by way of explanation. Yohji knew the 'medic wanted to say more, but just then one of the various machines that Aya was hooked into went off in an explosion of noise, and the two EMT's had their hands full dealing with him until they reached the hospital.  
  
As soon as the ambulance came to a halt, the doors were pulled open, and three nurses waited to help transfer Aya onto an emergency room stretcher. Yohji was so intent on staying out of everyone's way, he didn't recognize Asuka until she called to him. "Yohji? What are you doing here? Who is he? Are you hurt?"  
  
She didn't leave where she was, trying to make the change of stretchers as easy as possible, but the fear and concern were palpable in her voice. He blinked, dodged out of the way of an oncoming nurse, and answered "I...I think I know him. You know, from before." He didn't say any more, as Asuka was rushing into the building, along with the two paramedics and nurses. Meanwhile an orderly was walking towards him, clipboard in hand.  
  
"Sir, please come with me. There is nothing you can do for him right now, except help make his registration pass swiftly, so that when he comes out of surgery, there's a room for him." The orderly was polite, crisp, and right to the point. His deep, smooth voice did nothing to calm Yohji's nerves, but he just nodded and followed him into the building by another door. He was given a tiny closet of a room to fill out the forms in peace and quiet, with the understanding that the orderly would be back within the next half-hour to collect the papers.  
  
The blond stared at the crest that was printed on the right-hand corner of the sheet. It read 'Magicbus Hospital', along with the address and the years it had been in operation. Funny, he'd known this hospital was the Magicbus, so why did it stir something in him head now?  
  
With a sigh and shrug, Yohji filed the thought away for later. Now it was time for paperwork. Something he hadn't done in...ever, as far as he knew. At least, not paperwork that wasn't for Aya-chan and the Koneko. Yet this seemed so normal, to be filling out Magicbus medical slips.  
  
The first line stared at him. NAME, LAST. That was easy enough. Kudoh. NAME, FIRST. Again, not so bad. Yohji. RELATION TO PATIENT. And there he stopped. What was his relation to the redheaded man that made him feel so utterly determined to stay with him? He had no idea. Try as he might, no reason came to him. The glass wall that kept his memories away from him wouldn't budge. Apparently he'd remembered all he was going to, today.  
  
Mechanically he filled in what fields he could, leaving the rest blank. As for the relation section, he wrote 'close friend' and left it at that. He left his cell phone number at the bottom of the page, and a note saying that his wife also worked there in the hospital. With nothing left to write and time to burn, the florist left the papers on the desk and walked out of the cramped space, leaving the door open. The orderly could pick up the papers if he wasn't there, but Yohji wanted air, and space to think. 


	2. Winds of Revelation

Part Two: Winds of Revelation  
  
Beeeeep Yohji, I was called for suicide watch in the long-term ward at the last minute, so I won't be home for supper tonight. There's some leftovers in the 'fridge that you can heat up for supper, and I bought you a new book today, it's on the counter next to the saito. Just pretend that I've already written 'To Yohji, the light of my life, love your wife, Asuka' And don't worry, I'll check in on the redhead before I leave.  
  
I don't know when I'll be home, so don't wait up for me. Muah! Beeeeep   
  
Yohji sighed as he carried Aya-chan's cattleyas to the kitchen and pulled down a vase from the cupboard. A headache pounded away at his temples, so he decided to live with the semi-darkness instead of turning on the harsh fluorescent light. He didn't have the irrational fear of hospitals that many people did, but still, spending nearly a full week there would wreak havoc with anyone's psyche. Doubly so since Fujimiya Aya had been moved to the same floor that Yohji himself had stayed in for the first month of his wakened life.  
  
Aya-chan had been quite gracious and gave him the whole week off, including the weekend. Which was incredibly kind of her, even by Aya-chan standards of generosity. Not about to lose this opportunity, he'd had Asuka smuggle him in before official visiting hours had begun and well after visiting hours were over. Yohji barely left the room, acutely conscious of his promise to the redhead, and determined to keep it. After the first day of sitting around the room for eleven hours without anything to do, the blonde had started bringing books and music to occupy his time while Aya slept. That is, when Yohji wasn't talking to his sleeping companion.  
  
Aya was not in a coma, but rather in a very deep sleep that the doctors had assured him was quite safe. Indeed, it was the best thing for Aya, as it allowed his body to heal without any "interference" from what the doctor claimed the patient might think was more necessary. Like trying to get out of the hospital.  
  
...Apparently Aya-kun was a regular at the Magicbus, and had a notoriously low opinion of hospitals. Yohji had tried to ask for details, but the nurses and orderlies generally shut him down after a few questions. The Magicbus had a reputation in the Tokyo Medical circles that it was proud of. It was the one publicly funded institution you could go to if you wanted no questions.  
  
But after a week of sitting around the sleeping man's starkly uniform hospital room that was so like the one that he had stayed in a year before, Asuka had forced him to take a break. By sending him to work. Kudoh Asuka could be pretty sneaky sometimes, and she'd called Aya-chan, asking the younger woman to call Yohji into work for one reason or another.  
  
Aya-chan had risen to the occasion beautifully, calling Yohji's cell phone a scant fifteen minutes after speaking with Asuka. The blond florist panicked when he heard is young boss wailing into his ear, screaming about her parent's anniversary and how she had missed it, and if he could for the love of the Gods in the sky and underground please come to the shop so she could honour them properly...  
  
Twenty minutes after Asuka's and Aya-chan's conversation, Yohji found himself behind the counter at the Koneko, petting one of the shops three tomcats and glaring at Aya-chan as she watered the roses contentedly. The shop was devoid of customers and the only sounds in the whole shop came from Aya-chan's hose and the Abyssinian purring beneath Yohji's deft fingers. The silence was a puzzled one as Yohji tried to figure out the cause of Aya-chan's newfound schizophrenia. Aya-chan, for her part was laughing silently at her friend. She could barely withhold a snicker as Yohji's frown steadily deepened, turning his face into a mask of concentration. Her amethyst eyes danced as she openly watched him now, the roses forgotten.  
  
Her amethyst eyes...that were identical to Fujimiya Aya's eyes...Aya's eyes were the same as Aya-chan's eyes...Yohji didn't know Aya-chan's last name...but he knew the other purple-eyed Aya's last name...  
  
A sly smile creeped onto his face, and Aya-chan narrowed her eyes. Her very purple eyes. Yohji never smiled like that unless he was planning something devious. Like hitting on Manx in his past life, or starting a water-fight with her, in this one. Cautiously she took a step backwards and clutched the trigger on the hose nozzle possessively.  
  
"Aaaaaaaayaaaaaa-chaaaaaaaan." He drawled, leaning an elbow against the counter. Abyssinian objected to this invasion of space and yowled at Yohji to move over. The man simply pushed the cat off the counter. Offended by this, he stalked through the back door into the nursery, leaving Aya-chan completely at Yohji's mercy.  
  
"Yes, Kudoh-kun?"  
  
"Let's play a game."  
  
The raven-tressed woman took a step back as Yohji came around the counter. "A game, Yotan?"  
  
"Yeah. Let's play a game of 'guess the past'. I'll go first."  
  
Aya-chan frowned. Kritiker had given her strict orders: Kudoh was to work for her at any cost, and she was not to reveal any of Weiß's secrets. Including Ran's, and by extension, her own last name.  
  
Kritiker agents had informed her of her brother's condition, but because Yohji had made such a stink about staying with Ran and broadcasting to the world that his name was Fujimiya Aya, it was too dangerous for Aya-chan to go visit him. Kritiker couldn't risk one of their 'minor agents' to be seen visiting an active agent when a former one had taken so much interest in him. It was just all too suspect, and Magicbus was still a public facility. Anyone could walk in, get lost in Ran's general area, and walk out again. They'd only need to find him once in order to kill him...so there was no way of detecting malevolent forces. Aya-chan had had to content herself with phone-calls to the Magicbus front office, and sending red roses through Yohji to Ran's bedside.  
  
But the very fact that Yohji had somehow recognized Ran, and was now spending all of his time focused on the unconscious redhead indicated that more than the subconscious parts of his memory were returning. Instead of just reacting to situations like the broken vases, or experiencing emotions that stemmed from his past life, it seemed that Yohji was beginning to remember solid facts about his life as Weiß. This could be problematic, if his memories overwhelmed this new Yohji, creating a carbon copy of the Yohji who had been reduced to self-destruction in order to escape Weiß and Kritiker. Just thinking about that circle of inquisitiveness and despair was enough to give Aya-chan a headache, and that was one she didn't want. Instead, she focused on the task at hand; how to distract Yohji until she could report to Omi, and ask his advice.  
  
"Kudoh-san." She said severely, deliberately using a formal title and turning her voice ice-cold. "I thought I made myself quite clear on the subject of my past. I do not suffer busybodies kindly. One of my few rules is that you do not go prying into my history. I did not realize that it was such a difficult rule to follow."  
  
"I was agreeable to that. Until I made a connection, Fujimiya-san." His own voice dripped icy politeness, but the use of her surname proved that he knew more than he was supposed to. "You see, Fujimiya-san, I recognized your brother when he was dying on the street. And I called him Aya. You and he share the most peculiar eye-color, did you know that? But I didn't remember, because I only saw his eyes for a few seconds, and I haven't seen you in a week. And then there's the fact that I call you 'Aya-chan' as opposed to 'Aya-san' or even 'Fujimiya-sempai'. But then, I couldn't have called you 'Fujimiya-sempai' because you never gave me your surname. And I've always wondered why. But now I know. Because you were protecting Ran- san."  
  
He stopped suddenly, seemingly disconcerted. Sitting down at the table, he rested his head between his knees, shaking ever so slightly. Aya-chan knew why. "You didn't know that his true name is Ran. You only just remembered, didn't you?"  
  
He nodded, and she sighed. She contemplated briefly asking him exactly what he remembered, but discarded the idea after little thought. It was her job to keep Yohji employed and relatively safe. She could no longer do that properly, so it was time to call Omi. Or rather, it was time to call Rex, and schedule an interview between the new Takatori and the old Kudoh. This situation was no longer her mess alone.  
  
He'd misinterpreted her silence as anger.  
  
"Look, Aya-chan, I didn't mean to piss you off, but if you know anything about me, I really really need to know. You don't know how frustrating it is...to be missing great chunks of time like this. If there's any way to fill in the blanks, then I need to do it. Please."  
  
Aya-chan shut her eyes as her sense of duty wrestled with the desire to ease Yohji's pain. Desire won out. The young woman walked to the Koneko doors and flipped the sign to 'closed'. Then she took Yohji's hand and led him up the stiars to the apartment that Weiß had cleaned out for her. Once Yohji was seated in her social area and the kettle was on for green tea, Aya-chan sat down across from the leggy blond and spoke finally.  
  
"I do know what it's like to be missing time, Yohji-kun. I was comatose for two years, between sixteen and eighteen. According to Ran and my doctors, for those two years I didn't age. I didn't age a single day. My hair didn't grow, my muscles didn't atrophy, nothing. I was literally frozen in time, stuck as a sixteen year old. The doctors couldn't explain it, they could only keep me on life-support, and hope that eventually, I'd wake up. I didn't lose my entire life, but I lost two years, and that was bad enough.  
  
"That being said, I can't tell you what I know about your previous life, because of a promise that I made to one of our very close friends while you were in your own coma. I will call him, and he will come over later on today, and the three of us will sort out this mess. In the meantime, we will keep the shop closed, and you will tell me everything that you remember. Dreams, reactions, feeling, faint memories, all of it. But first, drink your tea, and I will call Omi-san."  
  
Yohji only gaped at her dumbfounded. "You knew? You knew me before I came looking for a job? Why didn't you tell me? Why did you keep this a secret?"  
  
Aya-chan sat down next to him and enfolded him in a hug. Tears piqued the corners of her eyes as he laid her head on his shoulder.  
  
"Yotan, I am so sorry for everything that has happened these past two years. I am sorry that you got hurt, I'm sorry that the others got hurt. I'm so sorry for everything that has happened to you. But remember this; you wanted this. You wanted oblivion from your past life. You wanted to forget everything. So, when you awoke without a memory, we took it as a sign that your wish had been granted. I couldn't tell you, because this is what you wanted. I'm sorry."  
  
"I...I wanted this?" he couldn't fathom a life that could drive a person to want to eliminate everything. But apparently, such a life had been his.  
  
"Yes. You did." She said as she stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. "And that's all I can say for now. I have probably already said too much, so we should wait for Omi-san to arrive."  
  
"Omi...that name is familiar. Did I know Omi?" Aya-chan only nodded and disappeared into her bedroom, presumably to call this Omi character.  
  
Rex be damned, she thought. I don't care if he's Kritiker's leader and head of the Taketori empire. He's going to take time out of his oh-so-busy schedule today, and look after Yotan. And that's all there is to it. Ran always told me...Weiß watches out for their own.  
  
One wouldn't think that she'd have that much power, but because of Ran's devotion to her, Omi, Ken and Yohji had always had a soft spot in their hearts for the sleeping girl that Aya had adored so much. That soft spot had continued after she'd awakened and stayed with Weiß for a few short days before they'd left for their other appointments, and she'd taken over the Koneko. Each had kept in touch in their own ways. Aya had called her nearly every day for the first month, then kept up regular phone calls every two weeks or so. Ken had sent her postcards from each of the countries he'd visited while working for Kritiker. She and Omi –the closest in age- had corresponded regularily through email. And Yohji had collected little mementos from every little village, town and city he'd pass through. To each she'd felt a connection, and that connection had turned to limited trust and freedom between each of the WeIß and her. Damned if she wasn't going to exploit that connection to get what she wanted...  
  
"Konnichiwa, Mamoru-sama... Hai, it's Aya-chan. You need to come to the Koneko very soon, and you must come as Omi, not Mamoru... I believe that Kudoh-san's memory has begun to return, and he is a very unhappy and confused man right now... Hai... Ano, I won't hold him here for days, Omittchi! Come tonight. Or better, come now. Whine whine, Persia. Make the time for Balinese. Once, Bombay would have jumped through hoops of fire if even one of Weiß had asked him to. I think it's time that Bombay came back, don't you? ... Arigatou, Omittchi. Bai bai." 


End file.
